Patching Up Wounds
by minachandler
Summary: Set immediately after 3x14. Laurel reminds Felicity that sometimes, what Oliver needs is for someone to listen to him. So when he returns to the foundry, bearing injuries from his time on Lian Yu, Felicity does exactly that.


It was just after three o'clock in the morning when Laurel and Roy descended the stairs to the foundry. When Laurel pulled off her wig, though, she revealed a nasty-looking bruise on her hairline. Felicity immediately got to her feet, heading to the first aid drawer.

"It's not as bad as it looks," Laurel said, sitting in the seat Felicity just vacated. Felicity looked up in time to see Roy scoff and roll his eyes as he took off his quiver.

"Are all vigilantes this bad at lying?" asked Felicity, and as she had hoped, Laurel smiled. Antiseptic and gauze at hand, Felicity made her way over to Laurel.

"At least we got the bad guy," Laurel murmured. "That's all that matters."

"This is going to sting," Felicity said apologetically, and Laurel nodded, closing her eyes. Felicity dabbed at the bruise, cleaning it carefully, and she was impressed – Laurel didn't make a sound. But Felicity could see, up close, that Laurel was close to biting a chunk from her lip and knew she was only getting a little better at masking the pain. "Almost done."

"I've got to go," called Roy. "You sure you're okay, Laurel?"

"I'll live," Laurel replied. "Good work today."

Roy nodded. "You too." He headed up the foundry stairs, and Felicity could detect a warmth between them that she had grown used to the last few weeks. She guessed that was only natural after fighting side by side more and more often.

"Covering this up will be fun," Laurel remarked. "Still, at least it won't leave a scar…"

"Mm," said Felicity noncommittally, looking over Laurel's shoulder and watching Roy go. She didn't want to admit it, but she felt anxious, something that was increasing every time she looked at either entrance of the foundry and didn't see Oliver there.

She was surprised to feel a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure Oliver's fine," Laurel said softly.

Was she that obvious? Once again, Felicity reminded herself to work on her poker face. "I'm sure he is," she said, but it was obvious that she felt the exact opposite of her words. Quickly, she decided to change the subject. "Are you okay, Laurel?"

Felicity wasn't sure what it was, but Laurel's shoulders looked slumped, and she still looked like she was hurting. Just not the physical kind.

"I told Dad," Laurel said. "About Sara."

"Oh." For a moment, Felicity hesitated. "What changed your mind? About telling him, I mean."

"I figured… we may never know who killed Sara, but my dad had a right to know she's… gone," said Laurel slowly. "And I realised I can't just, you know, keep using his heart as an excuse, especially when there is so much more to it than that. And especially when keeping up this – charade that Sara is still alive is hurting both of us too much."

"What did he say?"

Tears sparkled in Laurel's eyes, and Felicity grabbed her hand, squeezing it. "I don't think he's talking to me," she managed to say, "and today, I was so scared he was going to slip. I found him at Sara's grave with a bottle of scotch, and I thought –"

"– that he was going to fall off the wagon?" Felicity guessed, and Laurel nodded, using her other hand to wipe her eyes. "He won't. And neither will you."

"You know, the whole reason I got on that wagon, and stayed on it, was because of Sara." And somehow, Laurel managed a watery smile, which Felicity returned. "Dad kept telling me to get help, even dragged me to an AA meeting, but I only went when I found out Sara was alive and I had reconciled with her." Laurel paused and scoffed, remembering something. "Just a few days ago, Ollie was telling me I was an addict, that I was getting a high out of kicking the crap out of bad guys instead of booze or pills."

"Well, I can tell you now that that was a dick move on his part," Felicity said, adding as an afterthought, "Yet another reason for me to be mad at him."

As soon as she said the words, though, she wished she hadn't, and it was clear Laurel noticed as well.

"Yeah, I noticed things seem… frosty with you two lately," she said.

"You could say that," Felicity said. "I just feel like he doesn't listen to me anymore. Ever since he came back, everything I've wanted him to do, he's done the opposite."

"Like what?"

Not for the first time, Felicity felt guilt at the secrets she was holding from Laurel – about Merlyn, about Thea. And, not for the first time, she felt resentment towards the very person she was so anxious to make sure was okay.

"It's complicated," Felicity said, looking at Laurel apologetically.

"It's okay. You don't have to tell me. But maybe… maybe he needs you to listen to him instead," Laurel suggested.

Thankfully, before Felicity could think up a reply, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps that made them both look up. Oliver emerged from the side entrance, and from a cursory glance, he looked okay.

"Thank God," said Felicity under her breath.

"Hey," he said, attempting a smile at them both but only succeeding in a grimace. He gestured to the bruise on Laurel's forehead. "What happened there?"

Laurel shook her head. "It's nothing. Are you and Thea okay?"

"Fine," he replied, and for some reason, he seemed to be hesitating. "Actually, Laurel, do you mind… giving me and Felicity a minute, please?"

Turning away from Oliver, Laurel raised her eyebrows at Felicity, giving her a knowing look. "Sure," she said. "I have a deposition at nine, so I have to get going anyway."

Patting Felicity on the arm and giving a last smile to Oliver, Laurel picked up her handbag and left through the foundry's side entrance.

It was only when she heard the door close that Felicity spoke. "What is it?" she asked, unable to keep the brusqueness from entering her voice. He took a tentative step towards her, and it was then that she noticed, now he was in the light, that the lines in his face had tightened and he looked like he was in pain. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he said, but no sooner had the words left his mouth did his knees buckle beneath him. Felicity ran forward only just in time, barely managing to support most of his weight.

"Whoa," she said, and with great effort, she pulled one arm over her shoulders. "Let's sit you down."

The bed was nearest. Felicity carefully manoeuvred him onto it, and by this time, he seemed a little less disoriented. He started taking off his jacket, and as he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a poorly bandaged wound, she realised the cause of his sudden dizziness.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Booby trap," he muttered, pulling back the bandage, and he groaned.

"That's definitely infected," Felicity said, peering at it. The wound had turned a nasty colour. She bent down, retrieving his trunk from beneath his bed, and she found the stock of magic herbs he had from the island. Grabbing a handful, she got up, finding the bottle of water she'd been drinking from earlier, and gave them both to Oliver before going to the first aid drawer for the gauze and antiseptic.

Thankfully, when she returned to his bed and sat beside him, some of the colour had returned to his face, and he was already looking better than before.

"Wow, those herbs really are magic."

"Thank you," he said sincerely, and for what felt like the first time in weeks, Felicity smiled at him.

"It's what I'm here for," she said. She started cleaning Oliver's wound. Usually, when she was patching him up, he was much better than Laurel, barely flinching, but today, he was wincing the whole time. "So," she said conversationally, "what did you want to talk to me about?"

He looked her in the eyes for the first time that night, but after a few seconds, he looked away. "It was nothing," he lied. "Forget about it."

She looked at him scathingly, carefully cleaning the tiny woody debris from the wound. But at the look on his face, she couldn't help but soften. "Hey," she said, "remember that time, years ago, you told me that if I ever need to tell someone about my day, I could tell you?"

Oliver looked taken aback, as if surprised she still could recall that conversation. "Yeah. I remember."

"Well," she said, getting up for scissors and tape, "you know that that goes both ways, right?"

"Even now?" he asked, and the tension that she had been able to keep at bay this whole time threatened to flare once more as she returned to his side.

"Especially now," she said firmly, busying herself with cutting pieces of tape so she wouldn't have to look at his face. "What happened?"

Oliver signed. "Slade Wilson," he said, and immediately, Felicity's shoulders sank. "Merlyn let him out, as… as a way for me to get back my killer instinct."

"Well," said Felicity, fixing the gauze on the wound, "I hate to say I told you so."

For some reason, this made him smile weakly. "You would love to say I told you so."

"Not when it's your life – and Thea's – on the line instead of your pride. Is she okay?" she asked. "I'm guessing training on an island with landmines, booby traps and a crazy killer on the loose wasn't exactly her idea of fun."

"Apart from when I had to save her from my own trap, she… took to it really well. Much better than I expected."

"You don't seem all that thrilled for her," Felicity observed. "Actually, you look like you're in ten kinds of pain right now."

"You did just take out bits of bamboo from my arm, Felicity," said Oliver.

"No," she said slowly, "not that kind."

Oliver hesitated. "You're right," he said at last. "I… told her about Sara."

"I'm sorry, Oliver," she said gently. "I can't imagine what that must be like for you. Did she… say anything?"

"Not much. I've never seen her like this, Felicity. The entire plane ride, she didn't say anything. Not a word. And I just don't know what to do. Especially knowing it's all –"

"Don't even think about saying any of this is your fault," she cut across him. "You're in this mess because of Merlyn. No one else. And yeah, it sucks that you had to tell her, but the only way you can get through this – Thea too – is to take it in your stride and keep going forward. You taught me that."

Only now did she realise her hand had been resting on his arm the whole time when she was speaking. Oliver seemed to realise it too. "Is that done?" he asked, and when she nodded, he moved his arm away, releasing the sleeve of his shirt. "Thank you."

For a while, he was quiet, and Felicity became aware of their close proximity – on his bed, no less. She stood up and started returning the first aid supplies to their place, hoping the space would alleviate the tension.

Her back was to him when he spoke again. "She tried to kill him." Felicity looked up, eyebrows raised. "My sister held a gun at Slade Wilson – and she pulled the trigger."

"I take it she missed?" Felicity guessed. At Oliver's sound of assent, she said, "Well, she did what any normal person would do. If someone killed my mom and was threatening to kill me, I'd want to do the same to them."

"I get that," he said wearily, "but this was… more."

"Because you had just told your sister she killed someone?"

"Not just that." He was rubbing his thumb and forefinger together, the way he always did when he was nervous. "Do you know the worst thing I could possibly wish upon my enemy?"

"Spoiling their favourite TV show?" she offered, and she felt comforted when his lips twitched into a smile. She sat back down, this time at the other end of the bed, keeping a distance between them.

"No. it would be… for them to start seeing their own worst qualities in the people they love."

"I don't understand."

"Thea, Laurel, Sara, even – all I have ever wanted is for them to have normal lives. And now, because of me, because of the things I set in motion, they've become… soldiers."

"I notice you didn't include Roy and John there."

"John was already a soldier when he joined me. And Roy – being on the streets had roughed him up, so what he does now isn't so different. But Thea… seeing her willing and able to fight for her life… and Laurel, throwing herself in the line of fire day in, day out… it's not who they are. Who they're supposed to be."

"Laurel told me you said some pretty hurtful things to her last week," Felicity said. "Are you saying you did all that, said all that, to protect her? To stop her… from being just like you?"

He didn't say anything for several moments. "You heard Laurel. She has a deposition in about –" he checked his watch "– five hours."

"So?"

"So, she should be prosecuting people. Being an ADA. Not –"

"– doing what you do?" she finished. "Unlike some people, Oliver, I think Laurel can do both."

And there it was. She had laid it out for him, bitterness, resentment and all, for him to see loud and clear. It did not go unnoticed by him, either – he closed his eyes and pressed his lips together, the ache of everything hanging unsaid between them painfully apparent.

"I don't doubt that," he said finally. "I don't doubt that Laurel can do her job and be a vigilante. Just like I don't doubt Thea's ability to mix drinks because she suddenly knows how to fight. But – she shouldn't have to learn to fight. She should just be – I don't know, worrying about which DJ to hire, or something, not about what to do when Ra's tries to break her neck in her sleep."

"_If_ he does," she tried to say in an attempt to reassure him, but Oliver shook his head.

"It's going to happen. Nyssa knows Thea is Malcolm's daughter, and Ra's definitely knows I'm still alive. It's only a matter of time."

"Did Slade say something to you?" she asked, furrowing her brow. "Because, Oliver, don't take this the wrong way, but I've never seen you like this."

"Like what?"

"So… helpless. Like you don't know what comes next."

"He told me I'm going to lose everyone," Oliver said in a hollow voice. He didn't say "including you", but he may as well have, because Felicity could tell that was what he meant. "He said I've already lost Thea. And he said that once I've lost everyone, there will be nothing left of me."

"That's not going to happen," said Felicity patiently. "Look, I get it. I get that going back to the island brought back memories. It's bound to. And it's difficult seeing what happened to you happen all over again to Thea. But what you've got to understand is that you can't always save her from incoming trains. Or, you know, booby traps."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, "there will always be more trains."

"You're saying I shouldn't try to save my sister?"

"No. I'm saying that, somehow, you have to get your head around the idea that she can save herself."

"I guess," he said, but he didn't look convinced.

"And she will get through all of this. With Merlyn, with Sara, with Ra's. I know she will."

"How can you be so sure?"

"She has you," Felicity said simply, and she couldn't stop herself from placing her hand on his. It was warm and rough and familiar, and he squeezed her hand in response.

He sighed, his fatigue beginning to show, but when he looked up at her, his expression was one of gratitude. Before she knew it, though, the spell was over, and Felicity found herself extricating her hand from his grasp and getting to her feet. The wall between them had returned.

"You're probably shattered," she said, "and it's been a long night. I should get going." He nodded. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he said, proffering a smile. She managed to smile back, and she was halfway up the stairs when his voice made her stop.

"Felicity?"

"Yeah?" she said, her back still to him.

"Thank you. For listening."

She turned to face him and smiled properly this time. "Anytime."


End file.
